


technicality

by itsybitsyicarus



Category: Naruto
Genre: A little fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, in-depth headcanons about sasori's anatomy, that trope where the healer is the one who gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsybitsyicarus/pseuds/itsybitsyicarus
Summary: “Sasori?! Shit,” Deidara cursed before sprinting towards the center of the meadow, where Hiruko lay in a bundle of spikes.(sasori gets hurt and has to walk deidara through how to help him.)





	technicality

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place early on in the partnership, when Deidara knows what Sasori's true form looks like but doesn't know that he's a puppet. They have a pretty good relationship at this point but aren't especially close. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

“Sasori?! Shit,” Deidara cursed before sprinting towards the center of the meadow, where Hiruko lay in a bundle of spikes.

The annoying earth-style shinobi was finally dead. She had a spike jutsu that allowed her to summon 5 foot tall thorns from the ground from a distance of at least 50 feet, letting her target Sasori himself instead of stumbling over his puppets like most close-rangers do. Deidara, too, struggled over how easily she could detonate his bombs before they got in range. It was a pain, but she was still only one person, and Deidara didn’t anticipate that she’d cause as much damage as she did.

She tried some individual spikes on Hiruko at first: his right hand, his right shoulder, and his left flank. Deidara watched the frustration growing on her face as he didn’t even flinch at any of these injuries. With a spark of recklessness, she decided to pierce Hiruko with what must’ve been tens of spikes all at once. The rattle of joints as Hiruko fell limp will be ringing in Deidara’s ears for a while.

What finally stopped the shinobi in her tracks was the smooth voice of Sasori’s true form, muffled underneath Hiruko’s shell. “Lucky shot,” he had said, “You must be awfully proud of yourself.” She only managed a shocked, “You’re--” before Deidara landed a clay bird on her shoulder. 

He couldn’t even enjoy the explosion. He was already running towards Sasori.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said as he forced some clay past the lips on his palms, making a little spider that would make just small enough of an explosion to break the latch on Hiruko’s back, “You better still be with me, my man.” With a quick hand seal, the spider denoted.

“You didn’t.” came Sasori’s voice from within Hiruko, dripping with the usual venom.

Deidara grinned, partly with the relief of knowing Sasori was still alive and partly with the pleasure of finally having an excuse to destroy one of Sasori’s creations, even if it’s only the damn latch. “I did. Look, the bastard’s already in pieces, it really doesn’t matter if he takes another hit. You’ll fix it in an hour.”

“This will take much longer than an hour, I’m afraid.” 

“Hm.” Deidara braced a foot on one of the spikes and pried Hiruko’s back off. The criss-crossing of the spikes didn’t make it easy, but he was able to toss the door aside with only a few grunts and cusses. He wasn’t sure what to expect to see when he actually looked inside. If this were anyone but Sasori, he’d expect a corpse. What he saw instead was his partner trapped in an entanglement of stone spikes, with several piercing his legs and torso in place, one through his left hand and another through his right forearm, and one that grazed past his jaw and tousled his hair. A few even ran through his chest and collarbone, ripping at the Akatsuki cloak.

“Shit!” The word tore through Deidara’s throat, barely even sounding like his own voice by the time it left his lips. He wasn’t thinking about much besides the panic that gripped his guts, and his hands reached out and grabbed ahold of Sasori’s cloak with both fingers and teeth alike. With a strength he didn’t know he had, he ripped it off. This many injuries definitely would’ve killed anyone else-- hell, they might’ve killed Deidara-- and he anticipated an ugly mess of blood and bones underneath that damn cloak.

He’s never seen Sasori hurt before. Hiruko was an effective shell, and it was a damn lucky thing because Deidara didn’t know an ounce of healing ninjutsu. He always thought it was a waste of time. And considering that Sasori was both untouchably skillful in battle and very versed in medical techniques, Deidara has had no need to learn since his new partnership.

He only knew little things that he’s seen Sasori perform in the past. Put pressure on the wound. Tourniquets. Clean thoroughly. It wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t--

“Relax, Deidara. I’m not dead yet. I’m honestly a little offended that you think this would take me down.”

Sasori’s voice called him back to reality. Through the fog of his panic, he noticed where his hands had landed; one was on the nape of Sasori’s neck, near the spike that grazed him there, and the other was on his ribcage. Or, at least, what should’ve been a ribcage. What he felt under his fingertips was cold wood. As his eyes refocused, he noticed the details of Sasori’s torso, which was lined with wooden joints and weaponry and compartments. He noticed the metal rope that coiled around a hollow chamber in his stomach, a closed latch in his right pectoral, and a circular piece marked with his signature on the left. He noticed, too, a thin line of purple fluid dripping from that leftside piece.

“Relax,” Sasori said again, “I’m going to need you to listen to me.”

Slack-jawed, Deidara lifted his eyes to meet Sasori’s. The hand he had placed on Sasori’s side slipped somewhat inward, feeling the edge where the alcove of Sasori’s stomach began. He was careful to control his tongue. “You’re a puppet,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Deidara scanned Sasori’s body once again, finding himself drawn to the craftsmanship. It seemed as impeccable as his usual work; smooth, well-maintained, sharply lined, but still earthly and natural in form. And he could only imagine the difficulty of transforming one’s own body to wood. “Pretty impressive, I must admit. You really put your all into your craft.” He noticed Sasori’s gaze softening slightly, although he looked a little suspicious of the compliment. Something seemed off about his expression-- his jaw was tense as though in pain. Deidara swiped a finger at the purple fluid on Sasori’s chest, smudging it a little, “What’s this?”

“My blood,” Sasori explained, and Deidara immediately paled, “discolored from preservatives.”

“So you are hurt. Damnit--”

“That shinobi cut my connectors for the left side of my body, but the wound itself is fairly superficial. Even so, I don’t have much blood as is, and I need you to stay focused before I lose too much.” 

“You lost me, my man.”

Sasori sighed, getting impatient. Deidara noticed him flexing his right hand, testing the quality of his movement, while his left hand remained paralyzed. “The circular allotment in my chest is the only part of me that’s still human. It contains my heart as well as a series of tentacle-like connectors and sensors that allow me to control the rest of this body. It also contains a small amount of blood that keeps the organ pumping, but only 250 mL. You have approximately 5,000 mL in your body.” 

“Okay, so it’s urgent,” Deidara said, his words coming a little fast, “You said your left connectors are broken, yeah? What does that mean?”

“Connectors are where my chakra strings for this body branch out. Think of them as the base of my nervous system. My sensors are a little different and help me to navigate and see. I can’t feel pain anywhere but my core, but sensors help me to interpret weight and impact so I can understand where I am in space. My sensors seem to be intact, but I can’t move my left-side limbs.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

Sasori thumped the back of his head onto the seat behind him with a sigh, eyes closing. “Behind me is a collection of scrolls. Find one labeled with my signature.”

“On it!” Deidara hopped from the tangle of spikes that he had perched himself on and looked behind the seat. There was a small chest there that must hold the scrolls Sasori was talking about, but there was no way to open it with the spikes criss-crossing right above it. “Hm,” Deidara said, already reaching into his clay pouch, “I’m gonna have to blow more shit up.”

“What a shame for you,” Sasori deadpanned.

The same little spiders that took care of Hiruko’s latch got rid of the spikes quite easily. From there, Deidara started rummaging through the scrolls, looking for one marked with the kanji for ‘scorpion.’ “How are you feeling, my man?”

“Disoriented. Haste would be appreciated.”

“I thought you said the connectors had nothing to do with orientation?”

“Blood loss, idiot.”

“Alright, alright, no need to sass me. I found the scroll.”

“Good. Use my blood and summon what’s held there.”

Deidara settled back into place in front of Sasori, opened the scroll, swiped a finger across Sasori’s chest to get more blood (which he expected to earn a glare or something for, but there was no reaction from Sasori. Boring.), and planted his palm on the summoning seal. The puff of smoke that followed cleared to reveal a puppet identical to Sasori, which fell to the ground with a hollow clatter.

“What.”

That, at least, got a smirk from the puppeteer. “I carry spare bodies with me at all times. I can insert my core into it and possess it the same way I’m wearing my current vessel. Once I’m free of these damn spikes, I’ll be able to start medical ninjutsu on myself, though I’ll still only have use of my right hand.”

“Logical enough,” Deidara said, “Need me to move you over to the new body, I’m guessing?”

“I can make the switch myself. But,” Sasori hesitated for a moment. Is this embarrassing for him? “I’m caught on the spike. It seems to have penetrated a bit of flesh. I’ll need you to dislodge it.”

“Hm. I don’t know much, my man, but I do know that taking the knife out is the worst part about being stabbed.”

“And you would be right. Removing it will be dangerous. It seems we have no other choice, however.” The compartment on his right pectoral opened, revealing a hollow alcove that seemed to go deep into Sasori’s chest, “Reach in here and tell me what you feel.”

Deidara felt his heart pounding hard, and he was sure his uncertainty showed on his face. He pushed it aside to the best of his ability and put his hand through the hole, electing to not use his tongue as an extra antenna. 

Deidara always knew that Sasori is a very small person. His torso is thin, his shoulders aren’t especially broad, and he is, of course, shorter than most. The contrast between Sasori’s tiny form and Hiruko’s bulk always stuck out to him as an interesting foil. Standing next to Sasori is very different from having a hand inside of his chest, however, and Deidara couldn’t help but notice how little space his hand had to explore. He couldn’t meet Sasori’s eyes and choose instead to stare at a tree some distance away. His face felt a little hot.

“Okay...” he said, slightly grazing his fingers over a hard mass. It was solid and smooth, though slick with blood. “You said your core has tentacles?”

“Yes. I haven’t felt you yet.”

“Neither have I, apparently, hm. I think I’m feeling the spike, though. It’s pretty thin. Looks like it didn’t go in too deep.”

“Good, that makes this easier. Try to--”

Sasori cut off just as Deidara’s fingertips wandered further back and bumped into another mass. This one seemed a little too soft to be the opposite wall of Sasori’s chest, and judging by the way Sasori’s right hand twitched, it seemed that Deidara found something a bit more important. “There you are,” Deidara said, nothing short of smug. He risked eye contact for a moment and saw as Sasori raised his chin a little, composing himself. A moment of tense silence passed, and Deidara wished for probably the 80th time that his partner was easier to read.

“Alright,” Sasori said, “find the entry wound.”

Sliding his fingers a little to the left, he found the point where the spike sheathed itself in flesh, which was particularly slicked with blood and a little hard to feel and get purchase on. As he touched and probed, Deidara could see Sasori’s jaw tighten. “Got it. What’s next, my man?”

“The next step is very important. I need you to put pressure on either side of the entry wound, and place your other hand on the front of the core. You’ll be pulling the core out in one swift movement. It’s essential that you don’t stutter or hesitate, understand? When the spike exits--”

“Hold it. Sasori--”

Sasori raised a brow at him, his expression still tight with pain, and was clearly struggling to remain patient. Deidara lost focus under the scrutiny. He realized that he didn’t actually have much to say when he started speaking, he just needed to interrupt this in some way. He didn’t like it. “You’re a puppeteer,” Deidara said after a moment of staring stupidly, “Have a puppet do this. Wouldn’t that be better? You would basically be doing it yourself, yeah?”

Mindlessly, Deidara landed a hand on the front of Sasori’s core. Sasori looked from the contact back to Deidara, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I only have one hand. I can’t make a puppet perform delicately like this.” Sasori’s head tilted a fraction, and his those ever-focused eyes were locked onto Deidara’s face. “You’re panicking. Don’t.” He said, “You’re an artist, Deidara. Your craft requires a steady hand. You don’t panic when you’re holding an active bomb, so don’t panic now.”

“Your ‘eternity’ feels more delicate somehow.”

“It is. Can we continue now?”

Deidara sighed, shoulders dropping. “Yeah. Pressure on either side of the entry, pull swiftly. Then what?”

“You’ll need to carry me over to the new body, maintaining pressure the whole time. Place me into the empty slot in the new body’s chest, and I can make the connection from there.”

“Alright.” Deidara placed two fingers on either side of the entry wound, “How’s that pressure?”

“More,” Sasori said, and Deidara obeyed, “and move a little closer. Harder still. Good. Now, swift and steady-handed. When you’re ready.”

“Okay. 1, 2, and--” Deidara pulled. There wasn’t much resistance, and the core was lighter than he anticipated. He might’ve called it easy if not for the way Sasori’s face twisted momentarily, a hiss of pain passing his lips before his face fell back to neutral and his consciousness left. That consciousness was now cradled in Deidara’s arms, and it was bleeding everywhere. 

The hands on his palms coughed from the blood that flowed into them. The preservatives tingled and numbed his taste buds and nearly drowned out the natural, metallic taste. It made Deidara’s nose wrinkle, but he was careful to maintain pressure just like Sasori told him. He found himself pressing down even harder, his heart beating fast. Losing Sasori like this wouldn’t feel particularly artistic; it would just feel like someone messed up. And the ‘someone,’ of course, would be Deidara.

“Ah shit, fuck, shit,” Deidara mumbled to himself as he walked as calmly as possible to the new body, which was still in a heap on the ground. Its face was unnerving. Seeing Sasori relaxed was rare, let alone seeing him completely limp and lifeless. He tried not to linger on it for too long, and pressed the core into the open slot in the puppet’s chest. He had to let go of the wound to achieve this, and the ruined clot dropped onto Sasori’s new chest. Deidara’s palms continued coughing quietly.  
Deidara tilted the puppet’s chin towards himself, watching the empty eye sockets. He didn’t know much about the process, but he knew Sasori, and he expected it to be instantaneous. 

It wasn’t. “C’mon, my man,” he said, anxiety rising, “you wouldn’t make me wait, yeah?”  
He could hear some clicking from the inside of Sasori’s new chest, but little more. It was the same noise again and again, repeating in an inconsistent pattern before halting. It stopped for only a few seconds, but Deidara felt his throat close at the silence.

“Sasori, don’t do this to me.”

He noticed himself squeezing the puppet’s chin and found it unsatisfying how it doesn’t squish or sink like skin. It was stubborn and cold. As much as this suited Sasori, it didn’t bring Deidara any comfort.

After the rest, there was a quick succession of three clicks, and the third one did the trick. Sasori’s eyes opened suddenly, wide and darting from around before settling on Deidara’s face. He managed to hold eye contact for mere moments before tensing in pain, eyes closing and right shoulder tightening. His left side remained paralyzed and hung limply.

“Here,” Deidara said, and flung Sasori’s left arm over Deidara’s own shoulders and wrapped an arm around Sasori’s small ribcage, allowing him to position them both upright. Sasori was extremely light, which came as no surprise since he’s made almost entirely of wood, making it was easy to hoist him upwards and keep him there. The improved position allowed Sasori to lift his right hand to his core, which was enveloped in healing chakra. 

“What the hell happened there?” Deidara asked, “I was waiting for you a while. You freaked me out.”

“Apologies. I… fainted, I guess.” He clearly wasn’t sure how well that word applied to him given his anatomy, “I was feeling unbalanced and couldn’t make the connections quickly.”  
Deidara growled from somewhere deep in his throat and mumbled, “I’m never gonna forgive that bitch.”

“You don’t have to. She’s dead.”

“Still.”

Sasori snickered and said, “I liked her technique, you know. I might’ve added her to my collection if she were more than just a pelvis and legs at the moment.”

“Ha! She’d be my least favorite puppet. You’d have to hide her from me cause I’d punch her face in every time I saw her in your workshop. You’d be repairing her on the daily. Huge waste of time. Bad idea, my man.”

Already, Deidara could feel Sasori relaxing. His shoulders felt looser, and his voice was less strained. His partner’s skill in medical ninjutsu was impressive as always. “You’d think Hiruko was your least favorite, given how many bombs you lit inside of him just now.”

Deidara sighed overdramatically, thriving off of the rare playfulness his partner was showing, “Look, I’ll have a heart-to-heart with Hiruko later and make sure he knows I’m sorry. I’m sure he’ll understand, yeah? He knows I love him.”

“Mm.”

If Deidara didn’t know his partner better, he might think there was a slight smile behind that reaction. Deidara responded with a grin of his own and adjusted his grip on Sasori’s torso, preparing to be holding him for a while. Sasori, too, seemed to lean his head back a little, though not quite enough to be resting on Deidara’s shoulder. As impatient as Sasori may be at times, he knows better than to rush detail-oriented work like healing. This would take awhile.  
After some time of sitting in silence and listening to the swirl of healing chakra, Sasori’s left hand twitched for the first time, rattling slightly. Deidara, who had been staring at the ground til that moment, lit up and yelled, “Oh, hey! Would ya look at that.”

Sasori moved the hand again, curling each finger towards his palm one at a time, and then stretched his elbow where it rested against Deidara’s neck. He also flexed his left foot with little trouble. “Seems the connection is recovered,” he said, with no lack of pride, “Standing might not be the best idea given my blood loss, but at least my arm is back.”

“I don’t suppose you carry blood transfusions with you as well?”

“I do, but I won’t make the injection here. I can’t risk infection in a core so small. I’ll do it when we return to the compound.” Sasori sent a chakra string from a single finger into the container where Deidara found the scroll from earlier. With it, he was able to open the lid and begin rummaging through the scrolls, though he wasn’t able to see them. The first one he lifted didn’t bear the symbol he wanted, so he let it drop back into the container. With a jerk of his hand that was uncharacteristically clumsy of him, he knocked the entire container onto its side and the scrolls scattered inside of Hiruko. 

“Just let me help, would you? Geez.” Deidara gently helped Sasori off of him and made sure he was able to support himself with his recently recovered arm before jogging over to Hiruko, “What are you looking for?”

Sasori ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Hiruko’s scroll. It’s labeled with his name.”

“Easy. Got it.” He passed the scroll to Sasori, who then sealed Hiruko, along with the spikes that pierced him and the body he possessed 30 minutes ago, inside. Sasori sighed and slipped the scroll into his sleeve for the time being. “Brilliant. Now,” Deidara shoved a hand into his clay pouch and glad that his supply was still good after that fight. He could afford to make a comfortable ride for the return to the compound, “I can’t promise I’ll be as good as Hiruko, but I guess I gotta take you home, hm?”

“You--”

Before Sasori could argue, Deidara’s clay dragon appeared in front of the pair and Deidara had already scooped Sasori into his arms. 

“You need to stop enjoying yourself,” Sasori said.

“Never. I’m Hiruko for the day, what’s not to love?”

***

Recovery was slow, but easy. Sasori was insistent that only those familiar with his true form visit him during the healing process, which included only Konan, Kakuzu, Pein, and now Deidara. Konan was a frequent visitor, and spent several long nights in Sasori’s workshop talking about past missions and stubborn enemies. Kakuzu only stopped by once between missions, and they took the opportunity to complain about Hidan. Pein, knowing the importance of Hiruko in Sasori’s fighting style, relieved him and Deidara from missions for however long it took to repair the puppet. It ended up taking two weeks.

It was a long two weeks for Deidara. He didn’t like being trapped in the compound, and he occasionally ventured outside to visit nearby villages without the Akatsuki cloak on. The rest of his time was spent in the workshop, working idly on a sculpture and asking Sasori various questions about the process of being a puppet, which inevitably turned into an argument about the nature of art.

The incident changed something about the relationship between the partners. Although Deidara previously had no hesitancy in leaning on Hiruko or playfully patting him, Sasori’s true form felt untouchable. The forced contact during Sasori’s injury dispelled all of that very quickly. A few times, when Deidara entered the workshop and found Sasori busy at his desk, he risked throwing his arms around Sasori’s shoulders. And Sasori, surprisingly, didn’t voice any complaints. Konan bore witness to this once, and Deidara could swear he saw her smile.


End file.
